


The Citadel

by primeideal



Category: Megillat Ester | Book of Esther
Genre: Gen, IN SPACE!, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: There had been talk that Ahasereus had tried to clamp down on the rights of human women in the wake of Vashti’s dramatic abdication. Of course, not even a king could singlehandedly dictate policy for all of the 7-Bits, but it was no surprise that cyborgs were even more paranoid than normal.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	The Citadel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serephemeral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serephemeral/gifts).



> Many thanks to dragonbat for betaing, any errors are my own.

The outer bay smelled stale, as if the filters hadn’t been running at full capacity for a solar year. They probably hadn’t, Esther reflected. Maintenance was expensive enough that even Ahasuerus wouldn’t run life support at full capacity if he didn’t have to. More funds for the party budget.

Still, even a pungent smell was a welcome change of pace. After months in layer after layer of sensonull masks and holovisors, it was a pleasure to breathe easily and feel the artificial gravity of the station under her feet. At least with respect to the spacious outer bay, she was at rest.

“Well?” she asked. “What do I do?”

“Do, my lady?” Hathach echoed. Unlike the transports where she’d been for the last several months, these quarters were large enough for the cyborg to stretch himself to his full height. She didn’t understand why they were built so that they had to retract half their legs to fit on a shuttle, but there were many more baffling mysteries in the galaxy.

“I’m the administrator of this sector, aren’t I? What do I need to know?”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about any of that just yet. Take some time to get acclimatized. The microbiomes may make you dizzy for the first few days, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Yes, but—I’ll have _some_ responsibilities, won’t I?” Ahasereus couldn’t have spent all that time and effort filtering out candidates if he just wanted a figurehead. If he wanted a glorified concubine—well, video messaging technology was _very_ advanced. She could have sent recordings of herself. Plenty of them.

“In oversight of this sector, yes,” said Hathach. “I’m not up-to-speed myself; I was assigned to Meres’ fleet before.”

“That’s fair. Are any of Vashti’s aides still here?”

Hathach paced across the floor. His connection to the other units should have been instantaneous, so either something had gone seriously wrong or he was stalling for time. “My lady, I am afraid most of them followed her into exile. His Resplendence is most powerful, and while I mean no disrespect to your most worthy husband, if he were to grow dissatisfied with our performance, we, ah, value our own existence.”

“That’s all right!” Esther hurriedly replied. There had been talk that Ahasereus had tried to clamp down on the rights of human women in the wake of Vashti’s dramatic abdication. Of course, not even a king could singlehandedly dictate policy for all of the 7-Bits, but it was no surprise that cyborgs were even more paranoid than normal. “I’ll just comm her.”

“Pardon, my lady?”

“Consort-Emeritus Vashti. I’ll comm her to find out how she ran things.”

Cyborgs did not, as a rule, exhibit a great deal of facial emotion. Several of the royal models had third- and fourth-order emergent behavior that involved their flashing purple and silver on occasion when they overheated. Others had been programmed to appear more human in their surprise, and it was such an expression that Hathach displayed. “You are surely wise and capable, my lady, but what occasions you to think this a good idea?”

“Well, I’m as ground-legged as they come, aren’t I? She was queen for years and doesn’t seem to have ruined anything _too_ badly.”

Not that she had kept up with the royal court. For all the pride he took in serving the Citadel, Mordecai could be blasé when it came to the comings and goings of its honored occupants. “Ships come and ships go,” he said. “The speed of light and the Star-Forger endure.”

“You should know,” said Hathach, “that the entire inner Citadel has been secured against Vashti’s DNA. She would not be allowed to return here, as gracious as you may be.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to invite her, did I? Just comm her and ask her some questions.”

Hathach’s algorithms were already attuning themselves to Esther, because he reflected no weariness, only a quiet caution. “That can certainly be arranged, my lady.”

* * *

“Excuse me, Ms. Vashti,” trilled Umatis.

She was young for a cyborg, and could sometimes be frustratingly recalcitrant. However, in other ways her neural networks were much more flexible than most of her colleagues. Too many of the former aides continued to refer to Vashti as “Queen” this or “Eminent Consort” that. The entire point was that she was not, and would never be again. She could tolerate Umatis’ packet-dropping in exchange for being called by her name.

“What is it?” Vashti asked.

“Incoming comm. From the inner Citadel.”

So. It had been over a year, but Ahasereus’ rage had been stirred up at last. Or perhaps Haman or Memucan or Bigthan had caught his ear in a particularly volatile moment. “Initiate evac code B.”

The 7-Bits were mighty and widespread, but even they had their limits. Beyond the nebulas there would be some outlying clusters where Ahasereus’ grip could not extend. It would not be pleasant by any means, not to a woman accustomed to royal splendor, but it would be free.

“Vashti—”

“Tell everyone who wants to stay that they’re under no orders, but I wouldn’t chance it if I were them. Even if His Enormity takes kindly to cyborgs, someone else won’t.”

“What I mean is—”

“If you can break off your links to the others, you’ll probably want to once we’re out of orbit. We don’t want anyone tracing us.”

“Your Highness!” Umatis pleaded.

“Oh, not you too.”

“It’s not from any known exchange. Not Ahasereus, not Memucan, nobody.”

“So you mean the newest lackey in the Citadel has found this extension and decided to prank-call me?”

“The alias claims to be from Esther’s department.”

“Who?”

“Ah...Queen Esther. Ahasereus’ new wife.”

“Oh,” said Vashti. “So he finally found one?”

“There was a big public holiday, your—Vashti.”

Vashti shrugged. “Slipped my notice. Must have been the lightspeed delay.”

“Would you like me to scramble it?”

“No, no, I’ll take it,” said Vashti. “But be ready to initiate code B if I go offline.”

“Of course.”

Despite having a contingency plan close at hand, Vashti felt unconcerned as she strode to her main commlink. If anything, she was smug. Let some other poor fool realize how fruitless it was to try and please the king!

Esther, if that was indeed her, did not much resemble Vashti; the new queen was shorter and wore her hair long. She had dark eyes and a green shawl. At least Ahasereus had more complex tastes than choosing the nearest eligible woman who mirrored Vashti’s broad-shouldered form.

Then again, the groveling bots had reported that the screening selection had taken a year. It was probably the first time the woman could dress herself without a dozen layers of EVA material.

Esther gave a brief nod. “Thank you for meeting with me, Consort-Emeritus.”

“None of that,” Vashti said. “It’s ‘Vashti.’ I’m your subject.”

“Are you?” Esther asked.

“If you want to know whether I’ve fled the 7-Bits, I’m afraid my current coordinates are classified.”

“I mean, am I _anyone’s_ ruler?”

“What?”

“I haven’t been able to figure out what authority I have. Am I merely a display piece? Do I manage the inner Citadel so Ahasereus can rule the galaxy at large? Do I audit taxes that are too boring for the cyborgs? I thought you’d know.”

“You’re calling me for...advice? On queenship?”

“If you have the time.”

Vashti laughed. How long had it been since someone made her laugh, startled her out of her routine? “I think you’re asking the wrong person.”

“You survived, didn’t you?”

That was setting a low bar. But, Vashti remembered, many of the inhabitants of the 7-Bits had not been born into a position such as hers. The kingdom had expanded to include everyone from Yurkals to Benjaminites, but not without growing pains. “I suppose.”

“That’s a start,” said Esther. “Now, tell me what gases we need to supply the farm domes...”

* * *

“My lady?” Hathach asked.

“Yes?” said Esther.

“Vashti is on the main channel. She wants to know how the fission generators are coming along.”

“Feel free to give her an update,” said Esther. “And you can tell her I’ll call back later.”

“Certainly, my lady. Shall I ask her to schedule a time tomorrow?”

“If that syncs with her dayshifts, yes.” The Citadel’s day-night schedule fit with most circadian rhythms of the humans who lived there. Natural planets did not always have that luxury.

Hathach returned moments later. “You know we stand ready to assist you with any task, no matter how simple.”

Esther laughed. “If I need to outfit myself in a spacesuit again, I will need your assistance.”

“Food? Maintenance? Secure comms?”

“That will be all, Hathach.” The cyborg took his leave, and Esther wondered how much he had inferred.

The Citadel relied on a vast number of operations to keep it running, of course, from filtering out waste products to circulating water, oxygen, and electricity. No station could function at that level of complexity without a massive AI system automating most of the drudgework. Still, Esther had taken over some of the high-level tasks, making sure the human advisors had time off to visit their homeworlds and access to biopets in secure chambers if they wanted. She’d also arranged meetings with delegates from the Council of 127, most of whom seemed awed to have a chance to meet royalty face-to-face. (The cyborgs’ advanced translation devices had proven invaluable.) If Ahasereus’ inner circle felt appreciated, she reckoned, they might be less rash when they set policy. Or if nothing else, be less prone to assassinating him. She still remembered how impassively the data archivist had recorded the two conspirators being thrown out the airlock.

But amid all her self-imposed itineraries, she tried to avoid working on the day of rest when she had the choice. Mordecai had counselled her not to reveal that she was a Benjaminite, and she found that prudent; the Councilors could get snippy over whether Arizan and Strucha were separate languages or merely dialects. This far from her homeworld, being a member of a recently-conquered clan could do far more harm than good.

All the same, it was a relief to have time for prayer and contemplation. And the cyborgs, if they picked up on it, didn’t seem to mind. “Vashti was idle seven days out of seven,” Tahil would say with disdain. “Take whatever time you need.”

That, Esther thought, was unfair. True, Vashti did not have the earnest energy that Esther brought to the queenship, but surely she had exercised power of her own in gathering a clique of women advisors. Even though some of them had fallen from grace under Vashti’s eye, they were a safe outlet for rage and blame in the royal court. A misstep could easily be ascribed to a silly woman pressing the wrong button, rather than Carkas’ political miscalculations, and the attendant would be quietly rewarded with several lucrative asteroids for her sacrifice.

Vashti admitted as much on the comms the next day. “You shouldn’t have to sink to that,” she mused, after summarizing how a few of her cyborgs had been banished for a nitrogen leak. “They like you, and after that business with the assassins no one will begrudge Ahasereus’ executing a few more incompetents.”

“True,” said Esther. The councilors were as diverse as they were argumentative, yet few seemed happier than when Ahasereus signed off on a request to recruit mercenaries for some military campaign.

“How’d you find out about that, anyway? Six solar years, and the most exciting thing I ever heard was that Admatha’s husband was leaving him.”

_Because my uncle is a Benjaminite security guard._ “It pays to have contacts in all walks of life.”

“You’re reprogramming the cyborgs on the side, aren’t you?”

“You flatter, but I’m no coder.”

“Of course, of course, you’ve augmented their fourth-order emergence to prioritize self-determination and autonomy.”

Let her believe what she wanted if it took her mind off Mordecai. “Is it true you detached the solar panels to let the transport capsules maneuver independently?”

“It was more sealing off a bay when Hammedatha was in one of his moods,” said Vashti, “but yes. In order to reengage them, you’ll need to use the battery-powered rover...”

* * *

Vashti had come to look forward to her occasional discussions with the queen. From the glimpses she could make out, the Citadel was thriving under Esther’s tinkering. Or at least, it hadn’t spun out of orbit. Sometimes that was achievement enough.

And even a brisk summary of “talked to some councilors, they laughed at my accent, then we inspected the protein synthesizers” would be more enjoyable than listening to the soldiers’ boasts. Ahasereus’ decree would authorize units to kill the allegedly disloyal Benjaminites and plunder their assets. It was a very slight relief that the boisterous troops on Vashti’s planet seemed much more interested in the plunder than the killing for its own sake.

She wondered who Ahasereus had found to write the elaborate decree. He was no scholar; she knew that.

But when Esther did respond, the queen looked haggard and tense. “Are you okay?” Vashti asked. “Check the oxygen filters.”

“I’ve been fasting.”

“What?”

“Not eating or drinking, so as to—”

“I know what fasting is,” Vashti interrupted. “How are the food supplies?”

“They’re adequate, and so is the power consumption, if the cyborgs are going into sleep mode it’s their own choice. It’s not my place to order them around, not anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If I don’t return, try to do what you can to control the—riots. You survived when you were out of favor and brought wealth to your planet. Surely they’ll understand it makes more sense, to be a refuge.” She drifted off, as if trying to convince herself or some silent listener, rather than Vashti.

“If you don’t return?” Vashti echoed. “Where are you going?”

Esther gave a grim smile. “Nowhere far.”

* * *

“You realize,” Vashti teased, “that this is yet another holiday no one’s going to do any work? I’d hate to see Ahasereus’ face when he realizes what this’ll do to the tax budget.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Esther said drily. “And if you do, just distract him with the archives. Puts him to sleep every time.”

She was amazed that the queen could still joke after the turmoil of the past week. But then, there was so much she hadn’t realized about Esther—and her worldmates. For every Benjaminite who rose to royalty there were countless more on planets like hers, keeping their heads down yet not bowing to tyrants. Was it so strange to imagine Ahasereus and Esther ruling as true partners? She’d certainly seen stranger couples in the court.

“Besides,” Esther went on, “your planet has a longer year than ours. You’ll have longer until the next observance.”

“Is that how it works?” Vashti asked. “I’ve never been one for religious festivals.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Esther. “I haven’t been scrupulous about the lunar calendar since we moved to a homeworld with five moons.”

“We’ll talk later,” Vashti pledged, and cut the comm. She was no Benjaminite, nor a queen. But she was a free woman, and she had a feast to attend.


End file.
